


i'll hold my breath while you breathe out

by gilligankane



Series: Vanity Fest, 2018 [6]
Category: Emmerdale
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 03:11:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16297103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: Charity is not the most reliable of soulmates. She’s off and on and off again all through Vanessa’s schooling. When she gets into uni, Charity only saysGood for you, kidand then disappears for a few more weeks. Vanessa doesn’t stop writing, though.





	i'll hold my breath while you breathe out

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Vanity Fest, Day 3 - _AU_.
> 
> With a 'soulmates' twist.

_ I don’t believe in soulmates  _ is is the first thing written in her journal. 

Vanessa frowns at the jumbled scrawl, her own pen hovering over the page. She had been so excited when her mother gave it to her. The leather was new and freshly oiled. The spine cracked when she opened it. It smelled like her favorite corner of Ms. Faye’s bookstore - only it was here, in her hands,  _ all hers _ .

“If no one has written in it,” her mum explained. “Then your soulmate hasn’t come of age yet. But you, my darling girl. You’re twelve now, and this is your future.”

Vanessa pushes out her lower lip as she rereads the words at the top of the first page again.

_ I don’t believe in soulmates. _

She presses the tip of the fancy ballpoint pen Greg -  _ her father _ , a voice that sounds like her mum’s remind her.  _ Her father _ had gotten her a fancy pen at the small shop near the grocer’s. There was a gold inlay in the shape of a  _ V _ , with loops and curls. She liked it more than she let on when she opened it. At least Greg had gotten her something. Frank, her  _ real _ dad, hasn’t gotten her anything. But she refused to get excited at her party, not wanting to give her mum the satisfaction of being right about Frank.

_ Why? _ she writes back.

_ The whole thing is rubbish. Me dad says it’s a conship made up by rich folk. _

_ Concept _ , she writes back.

_ What’re you? The spelling police? _

Vanessa makes a face. Her soulmate is  _ rude. _

_ No _ , she says simply.

_ Good _ , someone writes quickly.  _ Me dad says coppers are no good _ .

Vanessa twists so she’s laying on her stomach, kicking her feet up into the air. She wonders if her soulmate is doing the same thing. Or maybe he’s having tea. Or maybe… her eyes widen in horror. Maybe he doesn’t even live here, in  She’s seen the big map on the wall in her geography class. He could live  _ anywhere _ . India or Spain or worse, the United States. He-

Vanessa’s eyes widen and she scribbles on the page furiously.  _ What’s your name? _

She quickly closes the journal and drops her pen, suddenly afraid. “What if his name is awful?” she asks herself. “Like Rupert. Or Augustus?” Her eyes widen. “What if his  _ last _ name is horrid?”

Vanessa Woodfield has a certain ring to it; that’s what her mum says.  _ An air of sophistication _ , she’s always saying.  _ Vanessa Woodfield sounds distinguished _ .

Her journal hums a bit, almost like a noise she’s heard once in a dream, and when she reaches for it, it’s warm to the touch. She opens it slowly, eyes scanning the first few lines before coming to rest on the last one.

_ Charity _ .

Vanessa frowns. That’s an odd name for a boy.

 

-

_ Bad news, Vanessa _ , Charity writes one day.

She’s always got bad news of some sort.  _ She  _ is _ bad news,  _ Vanessa’s mum says, after she goes through Vanessa’s journal.  _ A girl _ , she’d shouted.  _ And one who calls wine gums her favorite food _ . She’d forbidden Vanessa to speak to Charity, taking her journal away, but Greg had gotten it back to her the next day, a sheepish smile on his face.

Vanessa scowls at her journal, open in front of her next to her Maths homework.  _ What is it, then? _

She can nearly feel the curl of Charity’s lips as she reads her words:  _ Not so fast, Buttercup. Take a guess. I’ll give you three. _

_ I don’t want to guess _ .

_ Come on, Vanessa. Don’t be such a stick in the mud _ .

Vanessa’s frown deepens. Charity is the most difficult person she’s ever known. The girls at school are horrid, but Vanessa knows their game. She can follow their lead and keep her head down and spend her lunch break in the library with her journal and her thermos flask. Charity, though, is a mystery that Vanessa keeps trying to solve, even though she’s never been the best detective.

Vanessa writes in her journal often - before and after school; on her lunch; when she’s supposed to be asleep long after her mum has tucked her in. Charity writes back quickly most days and Vanessa is sure she’s not even going to school; if she is, she’s not paying much attention. But then there are days where it takes hours to reply, and most of them are doodles in the margins and stick figures of people she calls Cain and Chas. She tells wildly vivid stories about all of the things they get up to.

It sounds like a dream. Thought, Vanessa isn’t quite sure she likes Cain - or how much Charity talks about him.

_ Cain and me are running away together _ .

Vanessa pushes her journal away from her. The soup in her mouth tastes sour and she forces herself to swallow it before she reaches for her journal again, squinting at the words as she rereads them.  _ Running to where _ ? she writes slowly, measuring each letter carefully.

It’s not jealousy. Not the true kind. Vanessa isn’t jealous that Cain is  _ cool _ and  _ smooth _ and whatever other words Charity uses when she talks about him. She  _ definitely _ doesn’t care that Cain has kissed Charity, loads of a times. She’s mostly jealous that Cain gets to be with Charity, close to her. Vanessa feels so far away.

_ Anywhere but here _ , Charity writes. She starts to write something before she scratches it out too quick for Vanessa to read. The page is empty for another moment before Charity writes again.

_ I’m pregnant _ .

Something in Vanessa’s chest tightens until she can’t breathe.

_ It could be a girl or a boy. Cain’s wishing for a boy, but I think a girl would be nice. _

Vanessa blinks down at the page, but she can’t get her arm to lift. She can’t curl her hand around her pen. Charity keeps writing and writing and Vanessa pushes her journal away, still open as Charity’s words come through. That feeling in her chest doesn’t loosen; it gets impossibly tighter and she starts to panic as her lungs close.

It’s  _ her _ soulmate. Charity is  _ her _ soulmate. Not Cain’s. Except, he’s there and Charity thinks she loves him and that soulmates are rubbish, anyway, and Vanessa’s good to talk to, but she doesn’t mean anything.

She’s not Cain. She can’t take Charity on adventures or sneak her some booze when no one is looking. She can’t spend her allowance on things Charity wants. She can’t even see her, or touch her. She could be a million miles away from the person she’s destined to be with and  _ Cain _ is taking her place.

The page fills quickly, Charity’s messy scrawl stretched from margin to margin.

_ Me dad and the mum of the week are furious. Called me all sorts of names before they went on the lash together. _

_ Cain’t got a mum, you know. You’d never guess, the way he acts. And his dad’s a right boozer. _

_ We’re going to be better than our parents, though. Cain’s said as much. And Chas is young but she’ll help. We’ll raise it together, the three of us _ .

_ Vanessa? _

_ Vanessa, come on. _

_ If it’s a boy, I’ll name him Noah. Quite like that one. If it’s a girl, I’ll name her Vanessa. _

_ I can’t, though, can I. Said I’d name her after Chas. _

_ Vanessa, are you there? _

Vanessa finds the strength to pick up her pen, her hand shaking. Charity is  _ her _ soulmate and she’s not going to lose her to  _ Cain _ . Charity always draws his stick figure with floppy hair and honestly, she’s sure Charity could do better.

_ Chas isn’t a name _ , she finally writes.

Charity’s reply is instantaneous.  _ That’s what I’ve been saying my whole life, babe _ .

_ Neither is Charity _ , Vanessa writes quickly.  _ I like Deborah, for a girl. Or Tracy. Except, I knew a girl in Year 1 who was named Tracy and she was a witch _ .

_ Maybe once she’s born, we’ll come find you _ .

Vanessa’s chest loosens a bit now, her stomach fluttering.  _ We _ ?

_ Yeah. Me and the baby. Little Ms. Debbie or Master Noah, whichever it ends up being _ . _ Cain. Chas, if she wants _ .

The fluttering drops to a sink.  _ Right _ , she answers.

_ We’re soulmates _ , Charity writes back.  _ Even if neither of us want a snog from each other. Sooner or later, we’ll find each other. You’ll just have to wait another five months _ .

 

-

Charity won’t tell her where she’s staying.

She doesn’t tell Vanessa much, these days. Charity had been quiet for a few days after she told Vanessa about the baby, but when she’d written back, they’d picked right back up where they left off - doodles and elaborate sketches and Charity asking Vanessa for help with clues for the crosswords.

She had a girl, Vanessa knew. She named her Debbie. Charity said she was perfect.

But then Charity stopped writing back - longer, this time - and when she started again, she only told Vanessa that  _ everything _ was gone - Debbie, Cain, her home, her perfect fantasy world.

Vanessa asks where Charity is, all the time, until her hand cramps. She knows Charity is on the streets - Charity has told her as much. It had taken everything within Vanessa not to call the police and report him to social services. Only, when she tried, she realized she didn’t know Charity’s last name, or where she lived, or who to even call.

_ Just tell me where you are and I’ll come and see you _ , she scribbles furiously, a flashlight in her mouth and her bedsheet pulled over her head.

_ Not a chance, babe _ , Charity writes back.  _ You’d not last a day out here _ .

_ I don’t want to stay with you. I want to take you home _ .

The first time she writes it down, Charity stops replying. She writes out apology after apology, each one of them shakier than the last, but Charity doesn’t answer her. Her journal stays empty for days, open to the last page she’s written on. She rereads what she’s written over and over again until the words get blurry. She’s not sure what she did wrong, but it was  _ something _ and she needs to make it better.

_ I’m fine _ , Charity finally writes, weeks after her last reply.  _ Found a flat with a girl on a copper’s dime _ .

Vanessa’s hand trembles too much to write anything. Charity is fine. Charity is fine. Charity is-

_ Guess me dad was wrong about all copper’s being no good, yeah? _

The words haven’t finished appearing before Charity is already filling up another line.

_ I’ve even got an electric blanket. Living rich, I am _ .

_ Where _ ? Vanessa writes, her pen pressing too hard to the paper.

_ Ness, give it a rest, yeah? I’m safe now. I promise. _

Vanessa finally sighs and  changes the subject, talking about the weather and her aunt’s latest escapade. She tells Charity about Heather Romlen in her history class  and Sasha Winsor in her Maths. She tries not to get her hopes up when Charity writes back in all capital letters, demanding to know more about Sasha Winsor and the way she smiles at Vanessa.

For just a minute, Charity seems as interested in her as Vanessa is in Charity. She plays coy, telling Charity she’s just a girl and she’s  _ sure _ it means nothing, but Charity’s words come back harder, bolder. Her pages crease under the weight of Charity’s pen, seeping in through the connection, and Vanessa isn’t just pleased. She’s  _ tickled _ .

_ She’s got a beak on her, I bet _ , Charity writes. She draws a horrid sketch of a girl with a large nose that takes up half the page.  _ Can’t be having that, can you? It’s like, is it a girl or a bird? I’m not sure. _

Vanessa scolds Charity half-heartedly, the other half just glad to be talking to Charity.

Words leak through the page - from Charity. “ _ I’ve got t-” _

Vanessa stares at the unfinished sentence for a few days before she writes back -  _ Are you okay _ ? This doesn’t feel like the last time. Charity isn’t angry with her. She just stopped, mid-sentence. Worry settles in the pit of Vanessa’s stomach and gnaws at her insides.

Vanessa finally just starts writing, even if Charity isn’t there to answer. She’s not… Vanessa can’t even think the words. If she was  _ gone _ , proper gone, Vanessa would have felt it. The journal would be empty. But all of their words are there still, pages appearing at the back for all the ones they’ve filled.

She tells Charity about her day, about her mum’s new hair. She tells Charity that Sasha Windsor held her hand at assembly but was caught by teachers behind the dumpsters snogging Daniel Thomas the same day. She tells Charity about the book she’s reading -  _ The Secret Garden _ \- and what she’s watching on the telly and she writes so much that she nearly misses when Charity does reply.

_ Been a bit busy, have you babe? _

Vanessa shakes hard enough that her pen scratches across the page.  _ Where have you been? _

_ You sound like somebody’s wife _ , Charity writes.  _ Where’ve you been? Off with the lads at the pub? _

_ Charity. _

_ Busy, too, _ Charity finally writes after a minute.  _ Got more than you on my plate, don’t I? _

Vanessa sighs.  _ Of course _ .  _ I just worried. It’s been months _ .

The page is empty the whole it takes Vanessa to get through another chapter of  _ The Secret Garden _ before Charity jots something down.

_ I moved _ , is all she writes.

_ Where? _ Vanessa asks before she can stop herself.

_ Don’t start this again, babe. _

_ I just want to help. _

_ I don’t need a hero, Vanessa. So leave it, yeah? _

Vanessa swallows heavily, pressing the heel of her palm against her forehead until she sees white spots behind her eyes. When she opens them, Charity has written something else for her.

_ Sasha Winsor sounds like a right tart _ .

Vanessa laughs out loud, but the knot in the center of her chest doesn’t soften.

 

-

Charity is not the most reliable of soulmates. She’s off and on and off again all through Vanessa’s schooling. When she gets into uni, Charity only says  _ Good for you, kid _ and then disappears for a few more weeks. Vanessa doesn’t stop writing, though. Charity is her best friend - her  _ only _ friend until she meets Rhona Goskirk. She tells Charity all about Rhona and their nights in town. She tells Charity about running into Sasha Winsor and her three wee ones. She tells Charity about the first boy she sleeps with - Jacob Browning - and how it didn’t feel special, at all.

Charity only ever answers the last entry Vanessa makes and soon,

Months go by before she even opens the journal, mistaking it for her notes on safety while out in the field.

There’s a stream of entries from Charity, all in different colored pens and slants. Like she’s been writing on trains and the backs of taxis.

_ I found Cain. He’s still got the same floppy hair. Thought you’d want to know. _

_ How’s that joke, the one about the frisky heifer go? _

_ Met a rich bloke and he’s flashing cash as easy as breathing. _

_ I’m getting married _ , _ but his sister is a right piece of work. _

_ Think I’ve gotten myself into a spot of trouble _ .

Vanessa stares at the words for a long while, memorizing each loop and line of Charity’s writing. It’s been too long since she’s seen it and she hadn’t realized the ache it left behind until now.

_ What kind of trouble _ ? she asks.

Charity’s reply is nearly instant.  _ She speaks! _

_ What kind? _ Vanessa asks again.

_ The lasting kind,  _ Charity writes.  _ The long nights and tepid bottles and crying fits at 4am kind of trouble _ .

_ You’re pregnant _ .

_ Always knew you were the genius between us, babe. _

Vanessa pauses with her pen on the page. Another baby, with- _ Is it Cain? _

_ Don’t be daft _ .  _ It’s Chris’s. And I’m keeping him, yeah? I won’t let anyone else take another one of my kids away from me again _ .

A smile blooms over Vanessa’s face before she can stop it.  _ A him? _

_ I think so,  _ Charity writes.  _ Feels different than Debbie, doesn’t it? _

_ Still going with Noah? _

_ Unless Vanessa as a boy’s name is bang on trend. _

_ It could be. _

_ Don’t get cheeky _ .

Vanessa feels her smile building and she tries to clear it from her face. Charity is married, now. And having a baby. So she’s swapped Chris for Cain and she’s still not with Vanessa. At least this time, she’ll get to keep her child -  _ Noah _ , Vanessa thinks.  _ A boy named Noah _ .

_ How’s Jacob _ ? Charity writes.

_ How’s Cain? _

Charity changes the subject, telling Vanessa about some lavish thing Chris did for her and Vanessa lets her have the out, content to just be talking to Charity again.

 

-

Vanessa graduates and gets offered jobs around the country - some she likes and some she doesn’t. She makes lists in her journals and Charity offers her opinion. For a long time, she always writes at the same time each day and if Vanessa put too much thought into why, she’d surely go mad. But now there’s updates on Noah and updates on Debbie. Vanessa had written nearly a hundred exclamation points when Charity said she’d found Debbie again, after all these years. but quiet when Charity continued, telling her that with Debbie came Cain. 

_ Still don’t know why you hate him so much. His hair looks much better. _

Vanessa tells Charity about her failed dates, but she doesn’t tell her why. She makes excuses for why they went wrong: too much facial hair, not enough teeth, uncomfortable laugh, didn’t laugh enough.

The truth was, none of them are Charity. None of them make her feel the way opening her journal each night made her feel. None of them know about her skinned knees in Year 11 or how she spent all of Year 7 in the bathroom, hiding away from the pity on Sasha Winsor’s face. None of them know what she needs on a long night of studying - a proper talking to and a reminder to eat. None of them know that she’d gotten back in touch with her dad, as few and far between as his letters were. But Charity does. Charity knows all of these things.

_ Kiss Noah goodnight for me, yeah? _ she writes to Charity.

_ Noah says you should send him sweets instead of kisses _ .

_ Smart lad. Just tell me where to send them and I will. _

_ Goodnight, Vanessa. _

_ Goodnight _ , she writes back.

_ I miss you already _ , she doesn’t add.

 

-

_ Noah asked me if soulmates have to be a romantic kind of love. Reckons he’s mine and I’m his,  _ Charity writes one day.  _ Poor lad is like my shadow _ .

_ Tell him about us _ , Vanessa writes, stirring coffee into her hot water.

_ Oh, well, you’re a bit in love with me, aren’t you, babe? _

_ I’m not _ .

Except, if Vanessa thinks about it long enough, she thinks she might be. A bit in love, at least - in love with Charity’s danger or her freedom. She’s still smarting from a night out with friends. She and Rhona plotted their future over cheap wine - opening a surgery in Vegas, to treat the pets of the rich and famous. They’d toasted their future success with expensive vodka and passed out on the couch. She can feel the liquor still coursing through her veins and it makes her bold.

_ But what if I was _ ?

The words sit on the page, the truth there in black ink and she’s too nervous to drink any of the coffee she’s just made.

_ I’d say that you’ve never seemed like a stupid person. Don’t start now _ , Charity writes back.

_ I scored top marks at uni _ .

_ See? _ Charity writes quickly.  _ Proving my point _ .

Vanessa puts her coffee down, hunched over the page.  _ Be serious, for once in your life _ .

_ Oh, I am, babe. It’s you taking the mick. _

_ I’m not! _ Vanessa sighs and leans down, her forehead pressed against her journal. She knows this is a bad idea, taking the top off the box she’s closed up, the one labeled:  _ Feelings For Charity _ .  

_ Then you’re more stupid than I thought _ , Charity writes.

_ I know you think Cain is it for you, but what if he’s not _ ?

_ Don’t start this again, Vanessa _ .

Again.

Vanessa swallows. She’d done it once before, at the start of uni after watching Rhona necking with some bloke from their environmental studies class. They’d been giggling and handsy and slipped off to the loo, never to come back again. Vanessa had wandered home on her own and pulled out her journal, telling Charity about the night.  _ Reckon you’ll find the love of your life _ , Charity had written. And it might have been the wine, or the late hour, or that Charity wrote back to her within a minute, but something inside of her breaks.

_ Reckon I already have _ , she’d written.

Charity had written a string of h’s and a’s and a smiley face at the end of it, but Vanessa pushed on.

_ Reckon it’s you. After all, we’re soulmates _ .

A hard line cut through the h’s and a’s above her words and Charity wrote furiously below them.  _ Knock it off, babe. _

_ I’m not having you on, _ Vanessa wrote.

_ That’s exactly what you’re doing. _

Vanessa shook her head, as if Charity could see her.  _ I’m not. You’re the one person in the world who knows everything about me. And I fancy you, honest. I might have always fancied you. You’re linked to me. It’s destiny. And we’re soulmates! _

The reply had come slowly, each letter deliberate.  _ Soulmates don’t mean we’re shackled together for the rest of our lives. _

_ That’s exactly what it means, Charity. _

Vanessa chews on the end of the pen in her hand as thoughts swirl inside her brain.  _ I think I love you _ , she writes carefully.

_ Think, yeah? I know you don’t. _

_ You don’t know me, _ Vanessa scribbles furiously, her earlier care gone.

_ I know everything about you, babe. You said so yourself. _

_ Then you know I’m telling the truth. _

Charity is quiet for a minute that stretches to two and to three and finally, five. Vanessa has one hand curled around the edge of the journal, ready to close it when something comes through.

_ Babe, if you only knew the truth, you’d know I’m nothing worth loving. _ There’s a break in her sentence, a new line starting below it.  _ Promise me, Vanessa. Promise you’ll leave it alone. _

Vanessa wants to yell no. She wants to tell Charity to just tell her when she is. She wants Charity, here;  _ now _ . But instead, she crosses her fingers on her left hand and picks up the pen with her right.  _ Promise _ .

 

-

Except, Charity leaves  _ her _ alone.

A few years go by and Vanessa is tired of mucking stables, even if it is at some fancy stud farm where she gets room and board for free. She’s a glorified farm hand, not a veterinarian, and when Rhona calls, Vanessa can’t pack quickly enough. She nearly leaves her journal behind. She’d truly forgotten about it, stashed in her end table under her socks and bras. She trails a finger over the cover it, the leather still as supple as the day she’d been given it. Charity hasn’t written her in years; there’s been no soft hum from the drawer or something in her chest pulling her towards it. It’s too cool to the touch; she’s missed nothing over the years. She chucks the journal into her suitcase and she boards the last bus out of Hotten, ready to start her next adventure.

Emmerdale is nice, as far as small dales in Yorkshire go. Town isn’t too far and she manages to get Rhona to agree to go out, to celebrate.

She’s halfway out of the door of the Woolpack, her new pub of choice, by default, when she hears someone shout from behind her. A name catches her ear and she turns, eyes wide as she takes in the woman whose stopped in front of the bar.

She’s tall, taller than Vanessa imagined she’d be. She’s got a wide smile, though, and it makes Vanessa feel warm - warmer than the glass of whisky she’d sipped on earlier. Charity’s hips sway when she walks and every set of eyes follow her.  _ I like the power _ , Charity had told her once.  _ Like I’ve got them all eating out of me hand _ .

Vanessa rushes home and doesn’t bother getting out of her clothes, content to lay on the floor with a glass of wine and her journal as she debates what she’s going to say.

_ It’s you  _ is what she writes.

_ What’s me? _

_ You’re here. In Emmerdale. _

_ I don’t know what you mean, babe. _

_ I saw you _ , Vanessa writes.  _ I saw you tonight, in the Woolpack. _

Charity doesn’t write back for a long time, but Vanessa can see the tip of her pen pressed to the page, leaving an ink stain behind.

_ Why’re you here? How did you find me? _

_ I didn’t come looking, I swear it. I’m the new vet while Paddy serves his suspension. _

Charity still hasn’t replied by the time Vanessa brushes her teeth and crawls into her bed for the night - a poorly-filled air mattress. Vanessa lays in bed for hours, waiting for the scratch of Charity’s pen on the page.

_You need to stay away from me_ , Charity finally writes. _Please. Please, Vanessa. Promise me._

_ It’s been over 20 years and we’re finally in the same place and I can’t see you? _

_ Vanessa. _

_ I want to see you. _

_ If you love me like you say you love me, you won’t tell a soul. _

_ Charity. _

_ Vanessa, please. _

Every part of Vanessa wants to throw her journal down and go door-to-door, knocking until she finds the one Charity is behind. But there’s a voice inside her head that sounds an awful lot like her mum’s, and it tells her the same things it said when she was younger: That girl is trouble. She’ll only ever break your heart.

Vanessa feels something inside of her crack and she knows her mum was right.

_ Fine _ , she writes.  _ But if I write to you, you don’t ignore me, yeah? _

_ Yes _ , Charity writes quickly.  _ A hundred times yes. _

 

-

Her journal is practically vibrating in the end table where she’s left it. She opens it to the last page, the book nearly unable to close, and finds Charity’s handwriting at the bottom.

_ Kirin. Honestly, Vanessa. _

Vanessa scowls at the page.  _ I don’t need this from you, too. Not now _ . Not when Charity isn’t even around.

_ Chas called to tell me alllllll about it _ .  _ He’s punching above his weight, isn’t he? _

_ Do you have something important to say, Charity? _

There’s too much judgement around the village; she can’t take it now. Not from Charity.

_ No, babe. Just wondering if you’ve gone mad without me there. _

Something cutting builds in Vanessa’s stomach.  _ He’s here, isn’t he? _

_ Is that what this is about, babe? I’m not there?  _ There’s a small doodle - a swirl of lines, mostly, before Charity starts writing again.  _ He’s a poor substitute, he is. _

_ I like him, _ Vanessa writes, her pen pushing too hard against the page.

_ Still love me? _

Vanessa pulls back, eyes wide and already burning at the corners where her tears build.  _ Go to hell, Charity _ , she writes in hard, bold letters.  _ And when you get back, leave me alone _ .

 

-

She doesn’t expect Charity to listen, but maybe that’s what keeps her so interested in Charity in the first place - she’s volatile.

Charity leaves her alone. She stops writing in the journal and Vanessa stares at it too often, waiting.

Except, Charity never writes.

So Vanessa moves on. She works and she parents and she cares for everyone else in between all of that. There’s no time for Charity, really. And the only time she gets a moment to think about her is when she sorts out playdates between Johnny and Charity’s son, Moses. She pretends, for a moment, that Charity is there instead of Emma; that she’s finally close enough to Charity.

She hears from someone who heard from someone who saw her in town, that Charity was let out of prison. Vanessa doesn’t check her journal - she doesn’t want to know if Charity has written her. Or if she hasn’t.

But after a bottle or so of wine, curiosity gets the better of her an she checked.

She tries not to be too disappointed when there’s nothing there.

_ Maybe _ , she thinks, _ Charity is becoming predictable after all. _

 

-

_ I didn’t know. About Rhona. _

_ No one was supposed to _ , Vanessa writes, her pen pressed a bit too hard against the page. She’d only taken out her journal to rearrange her socks and curiosity got the better of her.

_ If I had known… _

Vanessa scowls, looking out of her bedroom window to the pub across the way.  _ You would have said something anyway _ , she accuses.

_ Think so little of me, do you? _

Johnny giggles from his cot, looking up at the mobile above him. She can’t help but smile softly at him, savoring the soft twinkle of his laugh. Kirin is long gone, but where Vanessa expected heartbreak, she’s only found relief. He’d been too young to raise a baby, too reckless. Now, it’s her and Johnny and Tracy and things are settled, better.

The only thing left in her life that’s unpredictable is Charity Dingle.

_ Honestly, Vanessa. I’m not a heartless sea monster. Loch Ness is more you, yeah _ .

Vanessa shakes her head. Charity is still the same as she’s been her whole life. Mean when she wants to be and sweet as a candy from the factory when she doesn’t.

_ He deserves to die _ , Charity writes. There’s a period at the end of her sentence, a finality to her words.

_ If I see him again, I’ll kill him _ .

_ Glad we agree on that _ .

Vanessa snorts.  _ We don’t agree on anything else _ .

Charity starts drawing something but it takes Vanessa a moment to sort it out. It’s a large ‘V’ and ‘W’ with fancy swoops and swirls that twist and bend around each other.  _ We agree on some things _ , Charity adds beneath the initials.  _ Like, for example. You were too good for Kirin. _

_ Yes, I was. _

_ And you’re too good for me _ .

Vanessa frowns softly.  _ I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. _

_ Oh, babe,  _ Charity writes.  _ There’s so much you don’t know about me _ .

_ I want to know everything _ , Vanessa writes before she can stop herself.  _ I’ll listen if you tell me _ .

_ Someday, _ Charity scribbles.  _ Someday, I’ll tell you everything. _

_ Okay _ .

Vanessa doesn’t hold her breath and when Charity ruins everything, later, she knows exactly why she didn’t.

 

-

_ Vanessa. _

_ Vanessa, are you ignoring me? _

_ Yes _ , Vanessa thinks.  _ I’m ignoring you _ .  _ I’m ignoring everything you’ve ever done and every secret you’ve ever told me and every promise you’ve ever made. I’m ignoring all of that, because you kissed me in a cellar last night. _

Vanessa gasps, her hand to her throat.  _ Charity kissed me last night _ . 

_ Vanessa, this is ridiculous,  _ Charity writes.

Vanessa feels like she’s thirteen again, watching Charity spill out all of her feeling for Cain. She didn’t mean to take the journal out - she hasn’t in months now. But she’d gone home after peeling off that ridiculous cape and crawled into bed and reached for the end table, taking out the journal and holding it to her chest. Something had called her to the journal, though. That same soft hum from when she was younger. She wondered if Charity ever heard the same thing, when Vanessa would write and write and write with no reply. It was warm under her hand, nearly burning, and when she’d opened it, it’d fallen open to the last page Vanessa had written on, Pierce’s name written in block letters with small doodled daggers surrounding it. Charity had added her own graphic depiction, but Vanessa couldn’t be mad; if she ever saw Pierce again, she’d kill him. 

Now the page is covered in Charity’s handwriting, each line taken up from one side of the page to the other.

_ Come on, Vanessa. It was a lousy snog. _

_ Well, not lousy. You’re a good kisser, if I’m being honest. Which I am. With you. _

Vanessa scoffed.  _ No, _ she wrote back.  _ You’re not _ . 

_ Yes _ , Charity writes quickly.  _ At least, as honest as I can be _ .

_ Like you were honest when you got me dad arrested? Like you were honest when you tried to sell Moses to Emma? Like you were honest when you- _

_ Okay! _ Charity writes in big, block letter.  _ Okay, I get it. _

_ I can’t believe I ever-  _ She stops herself and starts to scribble it out.

_ Ever what? _ Charity asks.

_ Ever kissed you _ , Vanessa finishes. Her brain, though, fills in the truth.  _ I can’t bevelie I ever loved you.  _

_ Vanessa _ .

_ All you do is hurt people. And confuse them. And turn their worlds upside down, just because you can. _

_ I don’t do that with you, _ Charity writes.

Vanessa laughs, something hard and cruel in the center of her chest.  _ You’ve done it for 30 years, Charity _ . 

_ Come here _ , Charity writes. 

Vanessa shakes her head as she writes  _ No _ back.

_ Come here so we can talk _ . Charity insists.  _ I can’t do this through a bloody journal anymore. You can yell at me some more, if you’d like. I’ll even curb my pathological interference and let you get another couple of hurtful words in _ .

There’s a hot flush on the back of Vanessa’s neck, but she stands her ground.  _ I thought you didn’t want me to come see you. I thought you wanted me as far away from you as I could be _ .

_ Vanessa, _ Charity writes slowly.  _ Come here _ . 

Vanessa stares at the journal, mind wandering for a few moments while she decides what to do. Her mother is in one ear, telling her to stay as far away from that girl as she can; but Charity is in another, whispering about noticing Vanessa, whispering that it’s been so long and Vanessa can finally,  _ finally _ have what she wants.

She pulls on her bodywarmer and puts her hair up and nods at her reflection in the small mirror on her vanity. She can  _ finally _ have what she wants.

She wants Charity. She’s sure she’s  _ always _ wanted Charity.

She picks up her pen, hovering over her journal before she touches the tip of the pen to the empty space at the bottom of the page.  _ Coming _ , she writes.  _ I’m coming _ .


End file.
